


Morning Surprise

by accidentalrambler



Series: We Are A Song [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Smut, NSFW, Post canon, feysand, feysand smut, post ACOWAR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9387188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidentalrambler/pseuds/accidentalrambler
Summary: Rhysand has a delightful surprise for Feyre's birthday - him. Smut ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick drabble with a bit of feysand smut ;)
> 
> Sorry for reposting this, I'm trying to organize my acomaf drabble collections *I'm so bad at AO3, LOL*

She’s woken with feather-like kisses ghosted over her jaw. Rhys’ scent, spicy and masculine, envelops her in a cozy cocoon that makes her feel lazy and blissful, a little serene smile on her face as she stretches her body.

“Surprise, Feyre darling,” her mate purrs into her ear before grazing his teeth along her sensitive lobe. A shiver runs down her spine at the touch while her fingers rake through his sleek black hair, until her hand covers his nape.

A touch of unfamiliar fabric around his neck alerts her and Feyre finally opens her eyes, blinking the sleep away.

What she sees is a loosely tied red lace bow and Rhysand’s lips curving in a smirk before he answers the silent question in her gaze, “I’m your birthday present.”

Arching her brow, Feyre lets her eyes wander lower and lower, taking in every inch of her mate’s gloriously naked body, his magnificent wings looming over them. “Oh,” she sighs content, pushing him back a bit and then raising to settle over his lap. There’s only a thin scrap of silk separating them where they’re almost joined and they both let out their groans that melt into one as she grinds against him.

“And what,” she trails off when Rhys’ fingers brush over her nipples, his hands tender and warm as they cup her breasts, “can I do with you?”

There’s this glimmer in his violet eyes that she recognizes and it means trouble but Cauldron damn her, it’s the kind of trouble she wants to get into.   
Especially with the way his lips skim over her collarbone - nipping, licking, sucking.

A tug at their bond is like a soft brush of his fingertips against her skin, a whisper that smooths air into her lungs.

_Whatever you want, Feyre._

The trust and love and lust that carries over in his raspy voice pours over her like honey and she cannot help but purr in delight. Pulling aside her underwear, she grips Rhys’ length and slowly - oh, so slowly - sinks onto him, inch by excruciating inch.

Her mouth parts slightly once he’s buried in her, his moan hot on her neck as she sets a languid pace against his shallow thrusts. Rhys tugs his wings closer, a silent demand to be petted and Feyre cannot help but snort at his antics because of course he’s still behaving like a spoiled Illyrian baby - even when it’s _her_ birthday.

_“Don’t pretend it’s such a hardship, darling. You love my wings,”_ he purrs over the bond. _  
_

“A _lways so cocky,_ ” she answers rolling her eyes, adding more force to her next push. Mewling in satisfaction when she swallows the gravelly moan that passes his lips.

They move a little faster now, Rhysand’s hand covering one of hers as she clutches his shoulders while his deft fingers encircle her clit. Their laboured breathing resounds across the bedroom as they rush towards release, their eyes on each other.

And it’s stunning, how with each roll of her hips, the flecks of starlight in his gaze become more pronounced.

_Her mate. Rhys. Rhys. Rhysand._

His name is the last conscious thought crossing her mind and then, Feyre’s body shudders along with his, a faint whisper of her name falling from his lips as they tip over the edge together. Dark shadows envelop them both like a mist, a pull of _their_ energy filling the room as they try their best not to bring anything down with their raging powers.

“Happy Birthday, Feyre darling.” His words come along with a soft open-mouthed kiss. Heavy-lidded and limp, they sink into the cool satin of the sheets, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she thinks of all the things she wants to try.

_Happy Birthday, indeed._


End file.
